


Providing Relief

by blackgoliath



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Exchange, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoliath/pseuds/blackgoliath
Summary: Secret Solenoid gift for roolsilver!Years after leaving theLost Light, Ratchet has only gained more cricks in his joints. Drift finds something that might help.





	Providing Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roolsilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roolsilver/gifts).



> here's a little gift for the Secret Solenoid gift exchange; the prompt I chose was 'IDW Ratchet/Drift, absolutely adoring each other like in the cover art of LL25'
> 
> today's theme: Drift why do you put up with that guy

“What,” Ratchet said, “Is that.”

 Drift sat in the middle of the floor on one of his yoga mats; resting in front of him was an object with a shape so convoluted Ratchet was having difficulty making any sense of it. There seemed to be water gently sliding down its sides, a pleasant scent wafting off of it, and the quietly bubbling sound it gave was soothing enough to his audials that he felt like lying down and doing nothing but listening for the next few cycles.

He immediately hated it.

“Why don't you come see,” Drift replied with a soft smile, the kind that had Ratchet moving toward him before he could think better of it, joints creaking as he settled into the cross-legged position his conjunx had drilled into him over the past few decades. His expression remained suspicious, but Drift of course read the curiosity that was so subtle in his posture and reached for one of his hands, pulling it forward to hover over the...whatever that thing was.

As soon as his hand - Pharma's old hand - was above it, he felt a relieving warmth spread through his palm and fingers, traveling up his arm. His aches and stiffness had gotten worse and worse over time, despite his stolen parts, and this weird little thing seemed to be easing them, dragging an unconscious sigh from deep in his chest.

When he onlined his optics, unaware he'd even dimmed them, Drift was smiling. “How does that feel?”

“It feels good.” Without waiting for Drift to lead him, Ratchet was already putting his other hand into place. “What is this thing?”

“It's called a Revitalizer. I can't say I understand how it works, but I do know that its healing properties are very powerful.” Ratchet resisted cycling his optics, an ability borne of years of practice. He was used to Drift's superstitious nature by now. Even so, he couldn't help but analyze the object in front of him, his medical subroutines running of their own accord as they worked to categorize exactly what affect this was having and exactly how it was doing it.

“It seems to resonate on a frequency that temporarily relieves internal pains,” Ratchet said aloud. “The fact that it can tune into an individual ‘former's makeup is pretty extraordinary. Where'd you get it? If I could get more, these could be useful for patients--”

“Ratchet,” Drift interrupted, and Ratchet found himself falling silent. “You're retired, remember? You don't have to worry about this.”

In response, Ratchet looked away, still holding his hand over the Revitalizer. Their apartment wasn't very big, but Drift had chosen one of the rooms with a view for his yoga and exercise, which meant they had windows that looked out on the outside world. It wasn't hard to get lost in staring out into literal space.

What was hard was believing the war was over, that Cybertron was habitable, that they were living in an apartment in a tower that had been built within the last hundred years. That he had, in fact, retired, and was no longer one of the top medics for the Autobots, no longer had to patch anyone up or watch a ‘former he couldn't save go gray as they went offline for good.

That he was here with a former Decepticon who he'd performed the Rites with, a bot he'd die to protect, if he had to.

“Ratchet,” Drift repeated, so quietly it was nearly a whisper. It was enough to jerk Ratchet out of his thoughts.

“What!” was Ratchet's automatic, snapped response, and Drift winced, and oh frag.

“What?” he repeated, more gently, and Drift took the hand he'd been holding out and cradled it between both of his own.

“You were zoning out,” Drift replied, curling and uncurling Ratchet's fingers, brushing touches over his palm. He’d always had a fascination with Ratchet’s hands, which Ratchet chalked up to his fluency in that secretive language some ‘formers used. Drift pressed something vague and soothing against the one he held now, and Ratchet shivered a little, the sensitivity of his circuitry there betraying him.

“No I wasn't,” he lied, and Drift gave him a slanted smile. Frag and a half, he loved that smile.

“What did you say?” Ratchet added to distract from how he was looking at Drift, despite knowing exactly what message had been pressed into his hand, and Drift threw back his helm and laughed.

“You know what I--you always do this!” He laughed again, didn't sound annoyed at all. “Stop pretending you don't know!”

“But I don't,” Ratchet lied again, in a way he sometimes lied for Drift on the little things, just to see him cycle his optics and grin and not believe a word of it. “I've got no idea, so you'll just have to say it out loud.”

“I _said,_ ” Drift responded, clearly enunciating each word as if it was Ratchet's hearing in question, “That you'll be fine.”

Well, that wasn't true. The mere fact that Drift bought him something to ease his circuit pain was testament of that. Ratchet had been old when they were together on the _Lost Light_ , and he was even older now, knew his days were numbered. Knew Drift was nearly his age and yet had the feeling he'd outlive him, somehow. The spry bastard. Must be all that ninja slag he’d learned.

Still. Ratchet curled the hand Drift still held, twined their fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely, holding Drift's gaze. “For that---thing.”

“Revitalizer,” Drift reminded him, warmth in his voice, and Ratchet wondered for the billionth time how he ended up with such a sweet ‘former as a conjunx. And, as he smiled, as he squeezed Drift's hand, wondered how any ‘former could make him act so sappy in the first place.

They stayed in there for a while, Ratchet hovering over the Revitalizer while trying to not make it obvious he was hovering over the Revitalizer as Drift went through his yoga routine. At least watching Drift do this always distracted him, even if it stirred that sharp jealousy over how nimble Drift was while Ratchet was gradually rusting over.

The jealousy faded when Drift came back to him, taking his hand while they sat together and looked out through the window over a revitalized Cybertron.

“I'm glad you like it,” Drift said, giving Ratchet's hand a little squeeze. It made him chuckle as he squeezed back, sliding his fingers against Drift’s in the Hand sentence he knew best.

“You knew I would,” he said, the _I love you_ a gentle, silent message between them. But Drift didn't need him to say it aloud. It was enough for them to sit together and watch the stars from an apartment neither of them thought they'd ever get to have, Drift leaning against Ratchet's side and Ratchet holding his hand, letting it anchor him against his worries for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at blackgoliath or pillowfort at bulkhead. thanks everyone for all the Solenoid goodness!


End file.
